


No Man's Land

by ullman



Category: About a Boy (movie)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ullman/pseuds/ullman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No man is an island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Man's Land

**Author's Note:**

  * For [versy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/versy/gifts).



  
**Monday**

The phone rang. And then rang some more. After awhile Will put his beer down to glance at the caller ID, even though he could make a guess as to the identity of the rather tenacious caller. Marcus. He picked up his bottle again, and sat back, waiting for his answering machine to pick up the call.

When it did, he arched an eyebrow.

_This is Will. Do your thing._

Absently thinking that there was something not quite right with his answering machine message, it took him a moment to realize Marcus had started talking, sounding rather excited about something. Knowing Marcus, it wouldn't be something Will would be particularly excited about.

"It's Marcus. You're watching Countdown right? I was going to watch that, but then I mentioned that fat bloke who keeps winning, and mum said it'd be too - Anyway, mum and I were at the market earlier today, and I heard your song. Well, your dad's song, really -"

"Oh please God," Will mumbled below his breath when Marcus started humming Santa's Super Sleigh.

His voice thankfully trailed off after another second or so, a brief moment of silence following, and then, "Will? Do your thing, what does that mean – do my thing?"

The machine beeped.

Will brought the bottle of beer to his lips, shaking his head. "November-the-sodding-thirteenth," he muttered, noting a new record had been set.  
**Tuesday**

His decision to celebrate the new record had involved getting drunk off his arse and while he could have sworn to waking up mid afternoon to the ringing of the phone, the answering machine told him he had no messages.

Will sighed, feeling vaguely relieved.  
**Wednesday**

His cup suspended in mid air when the phone started ringing, Will found himself about to take a look at the caller ID then decided against it. Not that he was riveted by a particularly interesting episode of Saved by the Bell. Of course not.

No, the real reason for deciding not to check to see who was calling him was because he already knew the identity of his caller. After all, ever since Kristina – young, Swedish, nanny – had finally returned home and had stopped calling him, he now only had the one stalker left.

A familiar click sounded, and his own voice filled the room.

_This is Will. Do your thing._

He frowned. The problem could be in the delivery. Perhaps it could do with a little more articulating. He tuned in just in time to hear an all too familiar voice.

"It's Marcus."

Of course it was.

"Saved by the Bell, right? Anyway, mum and I, we were just having tea, and talking – she said she wouldn't mind you coming over for dinner some time. Or, well, I asked if she wouldn't mind. And she wouldn't. Not much, anyway. And this time it wouldn't be a date. I promise. Mum made me promise, too."

 

The flow of words suddenly came to a halt and Will swore he could hear a hint of hesitation in Marcus voice when he asked, "Hey, Will? Do I have a thing?"

A beep followed, and Will finished his coffee in one large gulp, shaking his head. "Dinner with Marcus. Oh, no wait, dinner with Marcus _and_ his mum," he added and rolled his eyes as if to tell himself that this was definitely an offer he could refuse.  
**Thursday**

When the phone started ringing, the sound of it didn't quite register at first. It took a couple of seconds of its insistent ringing to distract him from the most compelling of dramas. Xena: Warrior Princess. His brow furrowed, and he couldn't help but think that Marcus, of all people, really ought to know better than to call him at this particular time of night. Then again, perhaps Marcus was the one person who wouldn't understand why he'd better not call him.

The ringing continued. Will waited.

_This is Will. Do your thing._

Listening carefully, Will shook his head. The delivery was in fact strong, with decent articulation, and so he found himself thinking it had to be the message itself. Perhaps it was a little dated, which wasn't too surprising considering it had been a while since he'd bought his answering machine. He made a mental note to give the matter some more thought, as he absently listened to Marcus.

"It's Marcus. Mum and I, well, I – about dinner. We thought you didn't want another vegetarian dinner, that maybe you'd want, well, _meat_ \- so, I was thinking, we could go to McDonald's. Mum said we could go. Well, she once said I could go if I wanted to, but you could, too – we could get a Big Mac, if you want."

A particularly long silence followed and Xena had almost managed to, without her having to put in any effort at all, lure Will back in, when he heard, "So, Will? Do you think I should get a thing?"

He lit another cigarette, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as the shrill sound of the beep cut Marcus off at the question mark. "No, Marcus I do not want a bloody Big Mac," he sighed, even though it wasn't the worst offer he'd ever had, surprisingly.  
**Friday**

This time the sound of the ringing phone sounded oddly loud in an otherwise quiet room, startling Will from his reverie. The water sloshed over the edge of the bath as he blindly reached for the receiver only to then remember he'd left the phone in the lounge. He let his arm fall down into the water again, the sound of splashing water not quite loud enough to drown out his own voice.

_This is Will. Do your thing._

Will cringed. Marcus was right: what did that even mean? The answer was, of course, nothing. It didn't mean anything. In fact, it was complete and utter rubbish. Perhaps it meant he really needed to get himself a new answering machine already. Surely there had to be a new model by now. He'd definitely look into that, if and when he could find the time.

"It's Marcus. I just called to apologize. The other day, when I called? I completely forgot Xena was on. Mum won't let me watch it. She mentioned something about it not creating realistic expectations, and eating disorders. She said she understood why you liked it though. That's a start, I suppose. Have you had some time to think about coming to dinner?"

An already familiar silence followed.

"Oh, and Will? I've been thinking – maybe this is my thing. I call, and leave you these messages. It's a thing, right?"

Will shook his head, then lifted his bottle. "Cheers, mate," he murmured, grinning to himself.  
**Saturday**

When Will came home, carrying the latest craze in answering machines – according to an article he'd skimmed in whatever Men's magazine he'd bought last – under his arm, his gaze immediately travelled to the old, and soon to be replaced, answering machine. Zero messages, the machine indicated.

He sighed, feeling oddly disappointed.  
**Sunday**

The phone rang. Will reached for the receiver, smiling.

 

"Good morning, Marcus."  
**END**


End file.
